You Can't Make This Stuff Up

The birthing bed remains in the library; it is useful for holding the kittens for a few seconds if I need a very brief respite from their attentions while I am cleaning. If I put more than one in there simultaneously, they may fall to wrestling and buy me more time. For the most part, though it certainly served us well, the birthing bed is just another playground.

But the Tempos are clever little beings. They don’t just use the space of the birthing bed. There is a drain in the bed’s side - for when washing it becomes necessary, I suppose - with a screw-on cap. At some point, the kittens managed to remove the cap. Yes, they eventually unscrewed a cap. Now, the hole of the drain has become a toy.

You can see here that Presto and Andante have invented a sort of blind fisticuffs. What astonished me was the length of Presto’s foreleg. That’s how long a kitten’s foreleg is when fully extended. It’s no wonder a cat’s jumping ability is so impressive: those stubby little limbs are like coiled springs.

Also, Andante has learned to hide and then rush the library door when I open it, in an attempt to escape, and last night, I saw him scratching at the door’s lower hinge. For all I know, he has determined that the door is held in place by a pin, and if the pin is removed, the door can be taken off.

You can’t make this stuff up.

The New Universe

The Tempos were released from the library for the first time this weekend. I took the precaution of locking away Indigo, Imogen and Millie in the bedroom and cat-room; the last two would probably show hostility to the kittens - not aggression, but hissing and growling that would frighten the babies. Those adults can meet the youngsters later. The other upstairs cats were snoozing in the sitting room, and I would watch for them waking. Thus, the upper floor was cleared for little explorers.

I noticed that Rhapsody had not wanted to come upstairs with the door to the library closed. I wanted her to come up for a change of scenery, but did not want to have to worry about the kittens. Mum, on the other hand, worried about them when the library door was shut. So I took the precautions detailed in the first paragraph, and left the library door open.

The Tempos wasted no time in finding the portal to the new universe. They climbed the stairs like experienced mountaineers - though at one point, Presto fell, and tumbled down the stairs in imitation of a Slinky. He was unhurt.

The interest the kittens have in the slippers I habitually wear indoors became fascination with my outdoor shoes: so full of outlandish smells, no doubt. That doesn’t explain why they tried eating them.

But once at the top of the stairs, the real adventures began. The babies were like archaeologists, finding all sorts of intriguing artefacts.

And Andante discovered a human litter-box.

I will reprise these opportunities on other days, though I will have to determine how to introduce the perma-cats to the Tempos sooner, rather than later. That will be my particular challenge.

Snoozing in Black and White

It’s a rarity that the two black cats here will lie close to each other. Imogen generally doesn’t like other felines near her. But she is more tolerant of some than of others. Here, Miss Silky and Sable are enjoying Saturday afternoon together, more or less. The Eastside Cats aren’t the only ones with tandem black snoozers.

No Escape

Rhapsody’s means of escaping periodically from the babies are becoming fewer. The Tempos can now all climb up onto the couch. Some, like Presto, claw their way up, while others, like Vivace, jump first, using their claws top stick half-way up like they were made of Velcro. As a result, Rho has been seen on the cat-tree and even on the top of the bookcases. How long will it be until the kittens find those refuges, too?

Mum Smells Funny

Rhapsody went to the veterinary hospital today. There was nothing wrong with her; she needed her long-delayed initial vaccinations and de-worming. The latter probably wasn’t necessary; I have seen no evidence that it was required, but it won’t hurt, and since she spent some weeks or months outside, it is best to take precautions.

The visit was actually uneventful. Her weight is good for her condition. It is down from when she was last on the scales, but that was when she was in the middle of her pregnancy. She needs to rebuild her poundage, but that will happen, especially after the kittens are done nursing, which should be soon. Everything else about her was satisfactory.

When she came home, though, it appeared that her children realised that Rho had been somewhere unusual. Not to stress the point too much, but they thought mum smelled funny…

At Home With the Tempos

This is a two-minute home movie of the Tempos at play. You’ll notice a number of things going on. One that I found interesting is Allegro’s instinct to ‘cover up’ food he doesn’t want to eat for the moment (it all disappeared later); it is already well-developed at five weeks. Someone apparently was trying to hunt sunlight. Parents know when to make the most of an opportunity. The birthing bed presents no barriers now. At the start, both Allegro and Andante were being good boys and using a litter-box for its purpose. Presto tries to climb the foster-guardian; not the latter’s purpose. And on the library’s flooring, little kittens sound like ponies when they trot.

Fifteen minutes later, all the babies were asleep in their beds.

I Have Twelve Cats

The kittens are officially kittens. You know, at that stage where they run (well, sort of lope like bunnies), jump, climb, wrestle, chase and get everywhere. Periodically, I see them resting, but when they see me, they usually get up and hurry over to me. I think Rhapsody would prefer me not to visit, because every time I do, the kittens become active.

There are fewer places in the library that are out of their reach now. Vivace and Presto climb onto the couch often, and the birthing bed is a play-pen now, a play-pen that the players can climb in and out of with little difficulty. While cleaning up the room, I sometimes put the kittens in the birthing bed as they interfere with my work. That diverts them only so long.

They are using the litter-boxes extensively. I think each is leaving his or her deposit in the boxes, but one or two are still going outside. I don’t know that that is a problem more than simply not knowing that they should go in the boxes every time. Realising that one can use the box is quite different than realising one should. I am confident that that too is a phase. (Presto evidently thought he was ready for the big-time...)

And the cause of their pooping - eating solid-food - is also progressing apace. My main worry in this case is that while I know each has eaten, I can’t be sure each is eating enough. Sometimes, Rho will eat the kittens’ food, not knowing that it isn’t for her. I can’t isolate her from the kittens while they eat, since they don’t all eat right away, and she would have to be separated until they ate, which is not feasible. The babies’ energy levels suggest that each is receiving enough nutrition from somewhere.

Somewhere still includes their mother. She is nursing much less often. I suspect that instinct is telling her not to give the children so many opportunities. But, good mother that she is, she will allow them to nurse whenever they start, wherever she may be.

The brood is now half-way toward the day they can be adopted, and I think Rhapsody is growing more ready for that all the time. Parenting isn’t easy. Whether mother or father, it’s hard work with little glory, and not much more recognition. The scene depicted below enacts itself a billion times a day, in a million species, in every country on Earth. Soon, though, Rho will be free to be herself again, and interact with others in the Cosy Cabin - and have more than one room to do it in.

It could be worse, I tell her. She could have twelve cats, not just five.